All The Kings Men
by Hemms Osterham
Summary: Of all the kinds of war, none is more deadly and disasterous than the Civil breed. And War, War never changes.


"the NCR pushes people around. That's how revolutions start." -Arcade Ganon

War. War never changes. War is fought for the stability of nations, for the acquisition of resourses, and for self gain. War is human nature. When the human story finally climaxed in 2077, and the world was plunged into nuclear abyss people thought that war was finally over. That the world and the human story had finally come to an end. But it was not, as some had complained, the end of the world. The Master waged war for the misguided unity of Mankind. The Vault Dweller fought for his home. The Chosen One for his aswell. The New California Republic fought Caesar's Legion for all of the above, almost guided to it's death by the inept General Oliver, were it not for one known to history only as The Courier. The Courier was awarded the Golden Branch, and won the hearts of the people of the Mojave, but his deeds, though great in number and consequence, went virtually unheard of in the core states of the New California Republic. General Oliver convinced the people of his own greatness, and won the Presidency after Kimball in what was becoming the new tradition in the Republic, proving to be an even more inept leader than even Tibbet. But his gains at the Second Battle Of Hoover Dam kept him in his seat of power. The NCR got it's first taste of war and conquest in the Mojave War, and proved itself to be a new world power, despite it's low moral and high corruption. Though the Mojave War gave it a name, it would threaten to strip the NCR of it once again. It's territories too vast to control, it's senate bending at the knees of the Brahmin herders, and it's imperialistic policy unchanged, the NCR was left as weak with it's people as strong as it was with it's new acquisitions. Of all the kinds of war, none is more deadly and disasterous than the Civil breed. And War, War never changes.

The Praetor awoke in a bed. A dirty, stained bed, unlike the ones of his homeland. It was dry, and flaky, and it seemed to move under him like it was infested with radroach larvae. His vision was blurred. He tried to sit up but his arm felt like it was aflame. Once his vision cleared it looked like it had been half cut off, but sewn up by crude, large hands. He heard a stomping, and looked around furiously for his spear. The stomping got louder and in came a large, green, muscular super mutant through the oversized doorway. The Praetor saw an old .376 Revolver with a single bullet in it resting on the nightstand in disrepair. He took it and opened fire on the Super Mutant. The mutant merely took the bullet out of his coarse skin and flicked it away.

"Now is that any way to treat the mutant that just saved your life and limb?" the mutant said warmly.

"Degenerate!" said the Praetor.

"Now now, lay back down. You've seen too much action soldier."

The Praetor lays back down, too weak to fight.

"what's your name? Mine is Grog." said the mutant.

"Maximillian" said The Praetor in response.

"Maximillian? Now that's not a very common name in the republic."

"The Republic? Where am I?"

"You're at the Lost Hills Veterans Hospital Bunker."

"Hospital?"

"You were brought in with a caravan coming in from Vegas. You were near death when you arrived."

"You're a mutant..and a doctor?"

"Yes. The caravan driver said you were given to him by an old ghoul dressed as a cowboy with a Baja accent. You were wearing Trooper Fatigues when you came in. the Ghoul told the caravan driver you were at the battle of Hoover Dam. I would have been there, but contrary to popular belief mutants can get injured. I was hurt in the very battle that took this bunker during the Steel War, so I devoted myself to healing all the veterans that come through here on the way back to The Hub."

"I'm in the NCR?"

"...yes, but you arn't FROM the NCR are you?"

"..." The Praetor was silent.

" Thought that tattoo on your arm looked strange. You're Legion arn't you?"

"I was Blackfoot, but now I am Legion. You gonna kill me? Give me a warriors death, cause you degenerate's refused me the honor of slitting my throat."

"I don't kill I heal, and seeing as you are far away from Arizona I suggest you learn to be NCR. You won't get far with people knowing you were once Legion. Whatever that ghoul saw in you I don't know. Maybe he just pittied you. A Slave to a false god. You can stay at the hospital for a day or two but that arm will heal up with this Buffout. Eventually this bed will be needed for another wounded soldier. In that day or two I suggest you read this." The doctor mutant hands him an old, deteriorated pre war book. "It's where your mighty Caesar got all his ideas. You can read can't you? It's gonna shock your world view."

The mutant got up to leave, when The Praetor put his hand on the mutant's arm"

"That gun. Why was it on the table in a place of healing?"

"Some soldiers simply cannot be saved. Rather than killing them we give them the option of doing it themselves. If after reading that book you still want to slay yourself for the good of the Legion then I will give you another bullet, but in the time being you already wasted yours on me. And trust me we don't leave them lying around."

Grog leaves through the oversized steel doorway, and The Praetor sits down to read about the Ancient Romans. The book is all in Latin.


End file.
